


your love is wicked

by apollothyme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam is an angel, Zayn is a demon. They shouldn’t mesh, but they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your love is wicked

Liam is an angel, Zayn is a demon. They shouldn’t mesh, but they do.

Liam’s wings are twice his size. They’re pure white with streaks of silver here and there. When Liam fully spreads them, they look infinite, sunlight reflecting on each feather to create the most beautiful patterns around him.

When Liam walks through the crowded streets of London, his wings shine so bright they can practically blind, but to the human eye, all they do is make Liam glow. This isn’t something Liam can help, it’s an integral part of his anatomy. Regardless of whether he wants to or not, there aren’t many places on Earth where Liam doesn’t reflect all the light around him, like a perfect mirror, an unbreakable reflection.

Humans don’t notice the glow, at least not objectively. They can’t see the light, only the brightness is visible to them. Liam doesn’t get that, doesn’t get why they can almost see it but not quite, but then again, there are many things Liam about the human race Liam doesn’t get. Their blindness to light and all that it contains is just one of them.

Zayn’s wings are slightly smaller than him. They’re the colour of old coal with hints of pure black near the bone. His feathers are a constant mess, ruffled and astray, some even broken. Zayn doesn’t care. When Zayn spreads his wings, he looks like the Devil’s perfect lovechild. Too beautiful to be human, eyes made of pure wickedness. There’s just something about him that screams ‘danger’ in the best way.

When Zayn walks through the crowded streets of London, he absorbs the light, makes the world around him a little bit darker, a little bit gloomier. For the most part, Zayn doesn’t care. It’s very hard to care for things when you’re a demon. There are other times though, rare times, where he wishes he didn’t do that; where he wishes the light would just stay so he could see the world through something else but grey and black.

Liam’s an angel. He’s good right to his core, but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent, much less pure.

Zayn’s a demon. He’s bad right to his core, but that doesn’t mean he’s wicked, much less evil.

They shouldn’t mesh. They shouldn’t even know each other, they shouldn’t talk or stare at each other with naked lust in their eyes, they shouldn’t search for each other during lonely nights, but they do.

Liam is an angel, Zayn is a demon, that doesn’t stop them from fucking each other until the transparent light of dawn.

\- - -

Liam reckons he’s like the way he is today because of how long he’s been on the surface. Angel or not, hang out around humans long enough and you start thinking like them. Your views on what is good and bad start to blur together, until they’re an undifferentiated mix of superficial opinions and subjective thoughts with no real meaning in the big scene of heavenly justice Liam used to exist by.

You start wondering about what the weather tomorrow is going to be like, what’s right and wrong, what’s your purpose on this stupid piece of rock and should you dress to fit in or to stand out? You start to wonder about things that didn’t matter in the past, things you used to know with a certainty that could set cities ablaze, and it’s when you start wondering these things, that everything becomes a mess.

When you start thinking like humans, you also start acting like them and their problems become your own, until you look, smell, think, talk like a human and yet, there you are, glowing in the dark, still not a human.

Liam’s an angel, sent to Earth to spread good throughout the people of the world, but how can he be a perfect physical representation of all that is good and just when he acts like a human, the most imperfect creature of all?

Liam doesn’t know if Zayn feels the same way, if along the way Zayn lost his purpose on Earth too. Liam thinks Zayn did though, some way or another, Zayn began to lose what made him a demon, because otherwise, why would Zayn have searched for Liam when they were such polar opposites?

Or maybe, Zayn is still a perfect little demon and Liam is the lost, confused one. Who knows? Certainly not him. It’s not like the two of them ever talk. It’s not like Zayn tells Liam anything about himself. It’s not like they have anything but a desperate, physical connection between two supernatural beings in a world full of tiny little humans, a connection that Liam can’t help loving and hating at the same time, even though he knows both feelings are wrong.

It’s not like they even care for each other. After all, an angel caring for a demon... How pathetic would that be?

They fuck. Nothing else but that.

Liam hates that word. It’s crass and rude and a perfect representation of what he and Zayn have. It’s meaningless and devoid of any real emotion and Liam shudders every time Zayn whispers it into his ears. It’s harsh and it rolls off your tongue far too easily and Liam came all over Zayn’s chest after the first time he said it.

\- - -

“Are you thinking of me, darling Angel?” Zayn asks as he steps into Liam’s dimly-lit bedroom.

Liam had been expecting him. Zayn always shows on Sundays at ten past five p.m., like clockwork. Liam thinks Zayn finds it ironic that they do this – that they fuck – on God’s most sacred day. He doesn’t know for sure though, Liam doesn’t know anything for sure when it comes to Zayn, and he doesn’t ask either. The two of them don’t really talk, at least not about anything important.

“No.” Liam lies and that’s another thing: he lies now. He didn’t lie when he first came to Earth. Just the thought of lying was offensive to him.

Look at him now. Lying like it’s nothing, sleeping every day, eating animals like an animal himself, fucking a demon and being everything an angel should not.

It’s disgusting and Liam hates it – hates himself – but he doesn’t know how to be anything else. Not anymore.

Zayn moves like a serpent, sly and slow, like every step is calculated and measured to the last, little detail. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, not a single doubt flowing in his blood. He practically glides through the floor. Liam has always wondered if he did it on purpose, or if it was just another part of his bizarre physiology, a natural demon trait.

“Liar, liar, your pants are on fire.” Zayn sing-songs before he settles in front of Liam, who is sitting on the edge of his double bed.

Zayn leans down and cradles Liam’s head gently with his hands, hovering in front of Liam for the tiniest second with his eyes closed in pleasure as he inhales deeply. “Did you miss me?” Zayn asks against Liam’s lips, eyes still closed. He looks beautiful, so fragile and so strong at the same time. Liam wants nothing more than to have him.

“Yes.” He admits like a coward, but it’s worth it for the brilliant smile Zayn gives him. When Zayn smiles, Liam can pretend, even if just for one second, that Zayn’s not a demon, and that what they’re doing doesn’t go against everything Liam should stand for.

“Good.” Zayn murmurs before he kisses Liam’s lips slowly at the same time as he exhales.

Zayn kisses like he’s got no rush, no worries, no need to hurry things along. He kisses like he wants to enjoy everything as thoroughly as he can, tracing his tongue over the corner of Liam’s lips before he forces Liam’s mouth apart and takes whatever he wishes to have. Zayn kisses like he couldn’t think of anything better to do with his time, pulling Liam’s bottom lip between his own with his sharp teeth before biting it.

Liam never tries to hurry things, even when all he wants is for Zayn to just do something else and a get a move on. He always lets Zayn take control, not because he dislikes the idea of pushing Zayn down and have his way with him (because Liam would love that, he really, really would, but who wouldn’t?) and not because he doesn’t have the strength to manhandle Zayn (because he does; Zayn might be a demon, but he’s still all skin and bones, while Liam is a natural warrior).

The reason why Liam doesn’t take charge every once in a while is that, when it’s Zayn kissing him, when it’s Zayn shoving him against a wall, when it’s Zayn fucking him until Liam’s mind is exploding in blinding white light is that it feels less wrong than it would feel if it Liam were the one doing all those things.

As if somehow, because it’s Zayn, the demon, and not him, the angel, things aren’t as dirty – as fucked up.

They are, but Liam doesn’t think about that.

“I missed you too, especially your tight ass and your gorgeous cock. They just don’t make them like yours anymore.” Zayn says with a small chuckle, amused at his own stupid joke that has Liam blushing from the tip of his ears to the bottom of his shoulders.

Zayn makes Liam scoot back on the bed until Liam is lying down on the centre, looking at Zayn through half-lidded eyes. Zayn straddles Liam’s hips while he stares back at Liam, admiring his private view. Zayn bites his bottom lip hard, enough to draw blood, and Liam wonders if he’ll get to taste it.

The inorganic ceiling light makes Zayn look ethereal, stained yellow fraying around the contours of his body. Zayn doesn’t even have to try; he always looks like the sweetest kind of dream despite being lemon bitter on the inside. He makes the world pale around him in comparison.

He makes Liam think that he’s innocent. That it isn’t Liam’s fault that he’s falling and falling and falling, from the top of the highest cloud to the centre of the earth, a thousand miles an hour, slower than an intake of breath. It just can’t be Liam’s fault, at least not entirely, because Zayn is beautiful and how was Liam ever supposed to resist him?

Zayn was made to be beautiful. He was made to make people fall to their knees in front of him and beg for their richest dreams to come true as they sell their souls to the Devil. He was made to create madness within, and nobody can say he didn’t do a fine job at that on Liam.

In a blink of an eye, Liam’s clothes are gone, torn apart by Zayn’s sharp claws, polished and cut down to look like normal, human nails, but still as sharp as they ever were.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Liam says, a tiny bit upset about losing one of his favourite polo shirts. Zayn might like to add a dramatic flair to their activities, but they’ve been doing this long enough that the need to impress the other should be gone by now.

“I know. I wanted to.” Zayn says, smiling deviously before he leans down to kiss Liam again. He tears apart his own clothes in the same fashion as he tore Liam’s, throwing them carelessly onto the floor after he’s done. Zayn’s never been one to leave Liam hanging.

Things start to speed up after that. Zayn’s movements become more hurried, not enough to leave Liam wondering if something’s happened, if this time is any different from all the others, if it’s more special, but enough that Liam gets lightheaded in just a couple of seconds, thoughts and vision slipping together in a mix of soft whimpers and breathy gasps.

Zayn finds the lube in the bedside table with his eyes closed, mouth on Liam’s pulsepoint as he tries to make Liam’s vocal side come out. Liam has kept a bottle there ever since they started doing this. He might be an angel, but he’s not invincible or ignorant of pain. He’d rather stab himself with a fork than do it with no lube (again).

It only takes Zayn a couple of seconds to get his fingers slicked up and even less to get inside Liam, fingers probbing with no worries or qualms of what Liam can and can’t handle. Not that Zayn’s ever had any qualms whatsoever when it came to fucking Liam with his fingers. Since day number one, things have always been quite simple:

Zayn gets Liam in whatever position he’s fancying at the moment, he slicks up and he pushes in, one or two fingers at the time depending on his mood.

When Zayn wants to watch Liam squirm, when he wants to make Liam moan and beg and cuss, when he wants to get Liam’s whole body thrumming with desperate energy begging to be released, Zayn does things slowly.

He takes all the time in the world and lets things linger for far too long, teasing Liam until Liam reaches his breaking point. Despite this, Zayn’s never gentle, at least Liam doesn’t think so. He just takes his time, relishes in the little noises Liam makes as he tries to drag them out, gets off on the way he’s able to drive Liam mad with just his stupid, meticulous, amazing fingers.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, when Zayn’s in the mood to make Liam scream, when he wants Liam to scratch and arch his back and rock back into him, when he wants Liam to be sore for a week, Zayn doesn’t waste any time. He’s rough, loud and quick, burning seconds with the tip of his scorching fingertips.

For the most part though, Zayn prefers to let things take their time, and Liam might not be able to admit it, but he prefers those times too. Even if he feels ashamed of them – ashamed of how he acted – afterwards.

As if one queue, Liam can’t help letting out a strangled moan when Zayn’s fingers scratch his sweet spot. That’s the thing, really: it never takes much for Liam to throw shame and shyness out the window in favor of moaning and begging for it like he’s a dying man and Zayn’s his oxygen. But even then, Zayn doesn’t relent, not until he gets everything he wants from Liam.

There was a time – Liam’s sure of this, even if he can’t properly remember anymore – when Liam still had honor and beliefs and knew how to control himself. When he still had some dignity. There was also a time where Zayn didn’t shove him against the dirty walls of dark alleys and dropped down on his knees to suck Liam’s dick. Those times are long since gone.

Regardless, Liam still hasn’t let go of the pretense that this is something that he doesn’t really want. That’s just something he just can’t do. Not yet. But the pretense that this isn’t something that turns him on? Yeah, that one said its goodbyes the second Zayn looked at him through his eyelashes and smiled with all the innocence of a schoolboy who’s just been caught peeping into the lady’s room.

Zayn adds a third finger not long after, spreading Liam's legs wide open with his other hand as he stretches Liam's hole with too much patience and attention for Liam's liking. It doesn't take long for Liam to start feeling nervous. He's never liked being this much exposed and the way Zayn's looking at him – like Liam is the tastiest treat he's ever seen – doesn't make things better.

Zayn senses Liam's nerves prickling, he's good at that, and takes his fingers out in one simple movement, spreading cold lube around his cock right after.

"You ready for me, love?" Zayn asks. Liam nods in reply. He doesn't trust his voice to not break indignantly when Zayn's pushing the tip of his cock against his tight hole and looking at him like that.

Like always, Zayn takes his time. His first couple of thrusts are slow and measured; they create a delicious friction between the two of them that leaves Liam's whole body shaking. Zayn, being a terrible tease, makes sure his cock only grazes Liam's sweet spot, driving Liam slightly mad with each thrust and each outstroke.

“Remember the ‘50s?” Zayn asks against the curve of Liam’s neck.

“No.” Liam lies for a reason not even he knows. He can't explain it but with Zayn, it’s always easier to lie, easier to hide.

Zayn’s next trust is harder and faster than any of the previous, makes Liam’s whole body shudder and arch from the bed. It’s proof that he knows Liam’s not telling the truth and Liam wonders why he even bothers. It’s impossible to lie to a demon, but if anyone could do it, it certainly wouldn’t be him.

“Yes, you do. Don’t tell me you don’t remember how doing this,” Zayn punctuates his words with a harsh bite on Liam’s collarbone, followed by a soft kiss, “was getting people killed left and right because of your daddy’s hate, and while people were getting beaten to death next to our heads, we just kept at it like it couldn’t bother us less.”

“God doesn’t hate anyone.” It’s not the answer Zayn is looking for, but it’s the only thing Liam can give him. He doesn't want to talk about God and death with Zayn, not like this, not now.

“Tell that to the guys downstairs.” Zayn doesn't even try to hide the anger in his voice. He just grabs Liam's hips and pulls them into the air so he has a better angle to fuck Liam, to hurt him and pleasure him, to make him scream and to make him feel.

And that is what Liam's looking for, what deep down he really wants. Liam wants the anger, the burn, the pain that doesn't hurt the way it should. He wants to feel, he wants Zayn to be mad for both of them because he can't.

No matter how much he tries, all Liam feels is vacant, broken hate. The sort of hate that you can never run away from, the sort that burns you slowly until you're nothing but grey ash. That's what Liam feels when he's alone, but when he's with Zayn, he feels the anger of a demon, the sparkling, sizzling hate of someone who lives to hate and loves to do it and the feeling of it is amazing.

It's like being thrust into existence, all over again. It's like having a purpose once more.

Zayn keeps up the harsh pace easily, alternating his thrusts with bites on Liam’s skin until Liam feels like his insides are burning and he can barely breathe. Zayn slips his hand around Liam’s dick at some point and the contact is barely there; the angle too awkward for Liam to get off on it.

Somehow, it’s still enough to make Liam’s brain short-circuit. Electrons travelling fast enough inside Liam’s head to make his vision whiten and the world go mute for a second.

After that it doesn’t take long for Zayn to come inside of Liam with his head thrown back and his throat exposed, a long moan drawing out the silence in the room before Zayn shakes his head twice and collapses next to Liam.

The clock keeps ticking as Zayn and Liam try to get their breaths back, chests heaving in an almost painful manner.

“I hate you.” Liam says through clenched teeth when he’s confident that his voice won’t sound as debauched as Liam currently feels.

Zayn grins lopsidedly. He rolls over until he’s facing Liam. “No, you don’t, Angel.”

Liam closes his eyes and hates that Zayn is right, but hates the way Zayn says his name even more because for an angel, he sure hates a lot and he sure wants a lot and he sure is everything he an angel shouldn’t be a lot.

“How much time left do you think I have left?”

The question is more than unusual, unlike anything Liam’s ever asked Zayn. For one, it’s deeply honest. For two, it’s perfectly clear in Liam’s voice how scared he is. How terrified he is of what he’s doing, of what he’s becoming.

Zayn doesn’t answer. Liam figures he either can’t or he doesn’t know.

Liam rebuts with another question, one that’s been nagging him for a long time now. “Did you plan this? Are you getting some extra points downstairs for converting an angel?”

“No.” And the way Zayn says it almost has Liam believing him, even if only for one not so miserable second.  



End file.
